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Memorials of Theophilus Trinal, Student

By Thomas T. Lynch. Third Edition, Enlarged
  

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THE SINGER.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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THE SINGER.

“Sing praises unto God, sing praises.”

I heard the winter weep and sob
Through hours of a moonless night,
When the blank fields and naked trees
Were suffering the wind's despite:
And yet, as on my bed I lay,
My heart, she sang in her delight.

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With change of weeks now shone the moon,
Her beam of double pureness bright
Shining on self-illumined snows
That help'd her beautify the night:
And still, as on my bed I lay,
My heart, she sang in her delight.
So sings she on calm summer days,
When even the very grass is still;
And when the winds that herald showers
Sound from the woods, she singeth still.
All times, she saith, their music have;
And sing she must, and sing she will!
She finds a glory in the dark,
Another glory in the sun;
A glory in the ending year,
A glory in the spring begun;
And thus her changeful, steady song
She sings, as round the seasons run.